


Receive the Beast

by Cunninglinguist



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Bodily Fluids, Bodily Functions, Character Death, Crying, Cutting, Death Threats, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Erotic death threats, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Glove Kink, Gore, Graphic Description, Gratuitous Smut, Gratuitous hatred of Spencer Monroe, Hair-pulling, Inappropriate use of Rick Grimes' kitchen table, Knife Kink, Knives, Leather gloves, Nausea, Pain, Rough Sex, Smut, Table Sex, Vaginal Sex, Yeah you read that right, entrails, gratuitous descriptions of viscera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9135616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cunninglinguist/pseuds/Cunninglinguist
Summary: Negan murders Spencer, which is pretty hot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer: I don't own Negan or The Walking Dead, and am making no money off of this. Please read the extensive tags; this is a very triggering work of horror/smut and it's up to YOU, not me, to curate the safe content that you wish to consume. Happy reading.

Oh, shit—oh, _shit_. 

My heart pounded as I stood, huddled amongst the entirety of Alexandria (those of us who still remained, that is). Our collective eye was turned to the pool table that stood erroneously in the middle of the street, and the great, terrible man looming beside it: his lazy, cocksure stance too tense to be fully relaxed, his elbow propped on the business end of the pool cue, a crystal tumbler of whiskey clutched loosely in his leather-clad fingers. Huh, I could have sworn that he had a beard the last time he was here. I was too far to catch what was being said, but each time Spencer opened his mouth, my stomach seized up in painful little knots. 

I didn’t know Spencer well, nothing beyond any other acquaintance in this community—but I _did_ know that he lacked the finesse necessary to get one over on someone like Negan. He had been here once before, Negan, with his army--part of his army—they were legion, swarming the only home I’d come to know in this dark world, invading, pillaging, and leering...all while we stood by, helpless. Needless to say, no dim-witted, small man could command this operation. Surely, he would not buy whatever Spencer was selling.

Unable to deny my own curiosity further, I shoved my way to the front of the crowd. Though Negan smiled, his gaze was flat and mirthless as he regarded Spencer. He slowly swept his cold eyes over the masses, lingering on everyone until he landed on mine. My breath caught in my throat as he furrowed his brow and held my gaze—it couldn’t have lasted longer than a half of a heartbeat, but when he finally looked away, it felt as though my soul had been pierced through, and a strange desire thrummed through my veins.

He took a swig of his drink before glancing at Spencer and saying, “He is _swallowing_ his hate and getting shit done. That takes guts.”

He paused and narrowed his eyes. I wiped my sweaty palms on the soft fabric of my off-white dress as Spencer set his jaw, most likely due to nerves rather than steely resolve. That was the thing with Spencer: he was all bark, no bite. It was fucking pathetic.

Negan’s large, black boots connected heavily with the pavement as he sauntered towards his opponent and continued, “And then there’s you. The guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over and talk to me, get me to do his dirty work so he could take Rick’s place. So, I gotta ask: If you wanna take over, why not just kill Rick yourself and just take. The _fuck_. Over?”

Inexplicably, my pulse quickened, sending hot blood rushing between my thighs. I balled my hands into fists so tight that my nails dug into my palms. I didn’t want a conflict—there had already been too much—but I wanted to see Spencer finally put in his fucking place. 

“You know what I’m thinking?” Negan’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, yet I could hear every word perfectly. Alexandria had fallen silent.

Negan leaned in, his face nearly touching Spencer’s. “‘Cause…I have a guess. It’s because you got no fuckin’ _guts_.” 

A comically loud gasp flew from my lips as time slowed: Negan moved more swiftly than any man I’d ever seen as he loosed an absurdly large knife from the holster on his hip and lunged, driving its substantial, wickedly serrated length deep into Spencer’s lower abdomen. Negan’s face was of a man possessed: eyes blazing with a preternatural fire, jaw set in triumphant determination as he flicked his wrist and _sliced_.

Flesh yielded easily, parting like butter under a duller utensil, allowing the dark, visceral slop of his entrails to burst forth through the gaping laceration. Negan drew an audible breath as thick, vermilion liquid splattered across his face and white tee shirt before oozing in copious, continuous streams over his hand. With labored, anguished gurgles, Spencer crumpled, clutching at the pulp of his innards as they slid through his fingers and spilled wetly onto the pavement.

“How embarrassing! There they are. They were inside you the whole time!” Negan said loudly, his sweeping, emphatic gestures flinging gore onto those who dared stand close to the grisly spectacle. “You did have guts. I’ve never been so wrong in my entire life!”

I flinched as hot blood splattered across the front of my dress, mouth open, gawking at Spencer where he writhed, twitching fingers still seeking to reunite his organs with his flesh. Dampness darkened the front of his trousers where he pissed himself, eyes dimming further with the passing of each pained, wet wheeze. 

“Someone should get up here and clean this mess up,” Negan proclaimed, utterly deaf to the whimpers and soft crying of the people around him. Suddenly, he turned and set his fiery gaze directly onto me. I tried to remain calm as he slowly extended his arm, pointing the dripping knife directly at me.

“You,” he said, his voice turning my blood to ice. “You fuckin’ come with me.”

I glanced over my shoulder like an idiot, unsure if he was serious: we had only interacted once before, and I had been two hundred percent positive that he hadn’t remembered it until this moment. Fearful knots returned to my stomach once more, joining with shameful arousal to create an entirely new feeling.

“Arat,” he barked to his right-hand woman as he marched over to me and wrapped his massive, bloody hand tightly around my wrist. “Make sure one of these fine folks cleans that shit up. Before a kid sees it.”

Arat nodded, and Negan yanked me—hard—pulling me in the direction of Rick’s house. I wanted to think fast, but all rational thought fled my mind as he pulled me into the house, kicking the door shut behind us before he pulled me through the foyer and shoved me into the kitchen. I braced myself on the kitchen table with a pained groan. In an instant, he was at my back, his pelvis pressed against my ass, his hand tangling in my hair and yanking my head back.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he growled against my ear. Inhaling deeply, I opened my mouth to respond, but he clapped his free hand, still gloved, over my mouth. I knit my brow at the coppery taste of cooling blood that seeped between my lips from the warm leather of his glove and struggled weakly against him. 

“Come to think of it,” he said, his tone mocking. “I just decided I don’t fuckin’ care.” He pulled my head back even more and pressed his body against mine tighter. I whimpered against his hand. 

“I know you don’t know me very well yet, darlin’,” he said, smearing viscera across my lips before trailing his hand down the front of my dress. My eyes strained in their sockets “But I fuckin’ know you.”

His hand fell from my line of sight briefly before it returned, holding his knife in front of my face. “See that? Still wet. Just like you, huh?”

He chuckled darkly against my ear before slowly, languidly sweeping the flat of the blade against my heaving breasts, crimson remnants of Spencer’s downfall marring floral eyelet patterns—one side, then the other, the edge glinting dangerously in the dying sunlight. 

“Ooh, darlin’,” he murmured against my ear. “I wanna fucking destroy you right now. Fuck your brains out, right fuckin’ here on this fuckin’ table, ‘til you can’t fuckin’ walk.”

His hands were everywhere, running over my breasts, sliding up my neck to rub against my lips, sticky red in their wake. 

“I’d, of course, understand if you told me to fuck off,” he said, dipping the blade beneath the hem of my dress and grazing it up my inner thigh. “I _did_ just disem-fuckin’-bowel your fuckin’ shit-for-brains friend.”

“He wasn’t my friend,” I replied through grit teeth, my fingers tensing against the table. 

“Really!” Negan exclaimed, barking out a laugh and sliding the blade high to press the unyielding steel right against my throbbing sex. I closed my eyes and bit my lip. “You’re tellin’ me that you don’t feel even a _little_ bit bad?”

The force of my desire paralyzed me in its grip as I circled my hips, chasing that relentless chill against my most intimate area, the gorgeous heat in my belly spiking when he gripped my jaw roughly.

 

“Hmm?” he hummed insistently, my jaw aching in his grip as the bulge in his pants hardened against me.

“Fucking…fucking hated Spencer,” I choked out, alarming myself with the admission. I had known it for ages, but I’d never imagined saying it in the wake of his death, especially not to the man who had just murdered him. Oddly emboldened, I continued, “I don’t feel sorry.”

“Well, shit!” he said, chuckling in amazement, his grip merciless as he pressed the knife just hard enough to bite into the sensitive flesh of my left thigh. “My kinda girl.”

 

“Ah!” I thrashed in his grip at the sensation of the tiny rivulet of hot blood trailing down my leg. My blush deepened as corresponding wetness gathered in my underwear. 

With a growl against my ear, he released me roughly. I cried out and braced myself on my forearms, breathing hard as he forcefully kicked my legs apart. Negan lifted the hem of my dress, dancing the knife up my leg to slide it under the band of my plain black underwear, and sliced. 

“Mmm, mmm, mmm, would you fuckin’ look at that? I just knew it,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. He bent my leg at the knee and pushed it up, forcing my knee over the table, exposing me entirely. My senses nearly failed when two of his leather-clad, blood-slick fingers parted my pussy lips and rubbed at my clit, then moved lower to prod at my entrance. Humiliation heated my cheeks at the sloppy, wet noises my soft opening made at his ministrations: this was so wrong— _so wrong_ —but I craved more.

I could hear the smirk in Negan’s voice when he continued, “Wetter than my knife after I fucking spilled your boy’s guts out.”

“God!” I gasped, digging my nails into the wood. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched my cunt, and the heavenly friction of smooth, slick leather against my pulsing clit almost rendered me unconscious. I writhed against his hand and grasped desperately at the surface of the table, surrendering to the tempest of Negan’s lust.

An intense ripple that was equal parts anxiety and want forced every hair on my body to attention at the sound of his zipper.  
“Are you ready for my cock, darlin’?” he asked, rubbing his hot, hard erection against the clenching slickness of my arousal. 

 

“Yes!” I choked out, propping myself up on my forearms and arching my back. My eyes shot open at the sudden coldness of a razor sharp blade against the throbbing warmth of my jugular. Fuck! Breathing hard, one of my hands flew up to claw at his forearm, sweaty palms slipping against the leather as he pressed slowly inside of me. My hips ached from being forced open and my standing leg quivered.

When his cock was buried part of the way inside of me (and fuck, was he thick) he stopped. I squirmed as much as I could—which wasn’t much, considering the slightest slip could cost me my life—but in my current state, I would have paid any price to be filled by him entirely.

“How does that shit feel?” he growled against my ear, his grip tightening on the knife as his other hand firmly held my hip in place. 

“M-more,”I whined, my neck straining with the effort of not folding forward. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh? Getting that tight fuckin’ pussy stuffed all fuckin’ full of my big cock,” he murmured, his labored breathing damp and warm against the shell of my ear as he pulled out and thrust in, hard. 

“Yes!” I cried, grinding back against him, the toes of my lifted leg curling. He repeated the motion, and fuck, I could feel every inch of him as he stretched me wide.

“Shit, darlin’, it’s so wet, I can’t tell what’s your fuckin’ pussy juice and what’s that dumb motherfucker’s blood,” he grunted as my eyes rolled back in my skull. 

Negan fucked like a god: he thrust in deep and stayed, circling his hips to drive the tip of his cock against _that spot_ until tears sprang to my eyes and both of my legs trembled—I would have collapsed were it not for the table holding me upright.

“Look at you,” he growled against my ear, his hips unerring in their delicious, swiveling motion. I let out a loud cry, squeezing my eyes shut as the tension building within me gave way to a telltale burst of heat in my gut.

“I-I’m gonna come,” I gasped, the words barely making it out of my throat. 

“Maybe I’ll just fuckin’ kill you too,” he snarled. The edge of the blade stung my flesh, a harsh reminder of what was at stake; my vision tunneled. “What’s to fuckin’ stop me? Here you are, busting all over my fuckin’ cock, babbling incoherently, while my knife—“ he pressed emphatically “—could slit your fuckin’ throat at any fuckin’ time, send you to join your fuckin’ boy in hell.”

“Negan!” I moaned, gripping his wrist with sweaty palms, my fear of his threats sending me spiraling higher into sex-crazed delirium.

“Yeah, that’s it, say my fuckin’ name,” he commanded, pulling his cock all the way out before shoving it back in. “I wonder what it would feel like, to fuck a bitch while she’s dying, just spewing blood and pussy juice. So come on, little dead slut”—he grunted, thrusting _hard_ —“come all over my cock.”

Just like that, words that should have sent waves of revulsion coursing through my veins pushed me over the edge—I squeezed my eyes shut, relishing in the dichotomy of the cool, inexorable steel against my throat and the hot, hard length deep inside of me, and came in spastic waves of ecstasy, sobbing out my bliss.

 

Negan dropped the knife, sending it clattering haphazardly to the floor. With a growl, he pushed my face into the table and grabbed my hips, pulling my limp, fucked-out body back to meet his powerful thrusts.

I groaned, my eyes rolling back in my head as he took his pleasure until he finally pulled out, leaving me woefully empty. I barely registered him pushing the hem of my dress up before he groaned thickly and splattered the heated flesh of my ass with his hot, thick release.

I closed my eyes, the repulsion beginning to set in as the warmth of my climax faded. What had I done? How could I look Rick in the face—how could I look anyone in the face--after… _this_?

“Fuck,” exhaled Negan. I didn’t move from my compromised state, leg still over the table, cheek pressed to the wood. He swept his fingers through his semen and brought them up to my face, the viscous fluid stretching between leather-clad fingers before my eyes. 

“I think,” he said softly, leaning over me. “I think you should come back with me.”

He brushed my hair behind my ear, a touch so delicate I flinched. He smeared the cool, congealing liquid across my lips, his fluids joining Spencer’s to mark my face. I grimaced and pressed my lips together, my stomach turning as the bitter taste pervaded my mouth in spite of my efforts. 

“Think it over,” he murmured in my ear before zipping up his pants, collecting his weapons, and leaving me a tremulous mess on Rick’s kitchen table.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to send 2016 to hell in style, with some top notch erotic gore. If you enjoyed this, leave me a comment or a kudo. 
> 
> Also, do come yell about Negan, TWD, and other horror with me on [Tumblr](http://hannibalssweaters.tumblr.com/).


End file.
